


Father's Day

by DickBaggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, M/M, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 21:13:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4320915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickBaggins/pseuds/DickBaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean plans a long, luxurious Father's Day for Sam, starting with breakfast, but his plans get deliciously derailed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father's Day

Dean’s got one ear on the hallway and the other on his phone timer, waiting for Sam to come back from his run  _and_  for the baked french toast to be almost finished, he’s on like, step five of a seven step process, way more complicated than the usual recipe. But today’s special.

Dean tries to wipe the greasy spots off his apron, bacon splatters, and even with the flimsy cotton thing hanging around his neck, he still splashed his arms and the parts of his chest that the apron can’t cover. His fault for cooking naked though, and he knows it.

The phone dings before Sam gets back, so Dean dons the oven mits and pulls out the big roasting tray and soaks the french toast with more spiced rum, more than the recipe says. And more after that, who cares, it’s Sunday and it’s Father’s Day.

Of course Dean’s bent over in the oven shoving the pan back in, misses Sam walking down the hall. All Dean hears, faintly, is the out of breath, “You’re naked?” from his brother in the doorway, and he spins around so fast the oven door slams shut.

“I am,” he confirms, face sweaty from the heat but not as sweaty as Sam. He shucks the oven mits onto the counter and smirks and okay, so he didn’t get to be  _waiting_ and  _posed_  like he wanted but the rest of Dean’s plan is still good to go. He saunters towards his brother, smoothly untying the apron strings, tugging it up over his head, discarding it on the floor. “Happy Father’s Day.”

Sam blinks at him for a few seconds, eyebrows shooting up. “Happy Father’s Day _me_?”

“Yeah, dummy,” Dean rolls his eyes, padding up the two small steps until he can smell Sam, sweaty and  a little sharp in that workout kinda way and his dick twitches in interest already. He flattens his palm against Sam’s t-shirt and blinks up pretty for a second, then noses along Sam’s neck towards his ear. “I do kinda call you Daddy a lot.”

Sam’s breath hitches, Dean feels it under his palm, feels his whole posture change and draw up straighter. Dean sucks in a quick breath, heart racing away fast. He gets another noseful of post-run Sam and he nearly moans, nearly starts rubbing up on him right there in the doorway.

One of Sam’s arms loops around Dean’s naked waist and he turns, looking down, looking at Dean like he’s starving. “So what’s in the oven? What’re you making for Daddy?”

Dean almost forgets. Sam’s hand makes it’s way down to his ass, grabbing a big handful, squeezing, his long fingers dipping into the crease, already siding towards his hole. Dean gasps a little, quiet, and Sam growls because there’s no mistaking that Dean’s made himself ready; he did it before he even started cooking.

“Well?” Sam reiterates, his index finger brushing Dean, circling the lubed up pucker, wriggling against it.

“French toast,” Dean forces out, teeth gritting, burying his head in Sam’s neck and pressing close, rubbing his half-hard dick against Sam’s track pants.

“How long?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Set your timer,” Sam tells him, demands it casually and gives Dean’s ass another firm grope before slapping him on his way, “And then bend over the counter. Also, why is the rum out?”

“French toast,” Dean explains again, fingers fumbling over his phone while he tries to set the timer and move into position at the same time. He expects the hot weight of Sam to press against him right away but it doesn’t. Timer almost set, Dean cranes his neck to see what the fuck is taking his brother so long.

Sam’s already got his dick out, already slid out of his pants and left them pooled in the doorway. He’s staring pointedly at Dean’s ass and stroking himself slow, tongue poking at his lips. Dean moans right away, there’s no helping it.

“Set the timer,” Sam reiterates, his free hand tugging off his shirt too.

Dean can’t look away though, keeping his eyes fixed and blinking slow and he swears his mouth is watering because Sam’s glowing with sweat, still breathing a little hard so his muscles tense and relax in a never-ending tidal wave of pornography. He takes the steps so slow, face mostly unreadable but definitely hungry, if not starved.

“Fifteen minutes, Dean,” Sam says again, his voice low and warning.

Dean  _shivers_ , a beautiful scary ripple shooting through him while he turns back to his phone and obeys as best he can. His phone’s locked again by then, and he’s still fumbling when Sam slides up behind him and curls a molten hand around his hip. Sam sort of drapes over him, leaning heavily onto the counter so Dean’s pinned and panting.

“Forgot to push ‘start’,” Sam mutters. He does it himself with one hand while he gathers up Dean’s in his other, squeezing his wrists together with his long, strong fingers. “I’m gonna ask again: the rum?”

“It  _is_  for the french toast, it’s spiced, the whole thing is kinda…fancy, I guess,” Dean huffs out against the counter, glancing at Sam’s looming body out of the corner of his eye. “Father’s Day present.”

Sam shifts, keeping Dean’s hands pinned behind him but moving around so he can see Dean’s ass again. Dean can feel him just looking and swallows, spreading his legs wider. The counter’s cool against his flushing face, embarrassed and needy at the same time.

“Thought this was my present?” Sam’s voice goes impossibly lower while his index finger traces Dean’s hole again, curiously swirling before slipping inside.

Dean bucks against it, his dick twitching completely to life. Sam’s dick nudges at the side of his leg at the same time as he rocks back and he can’t keep any noises in, not anymore. “You can just fuck me, I’m ready, I swear, I-”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Sam cuts him off, twisting his middle finger against his index and fucking Dean on them, slow, almost casual. “Maybe if you  _ask_.”

Dean sighs out shaky against the counter as he cants his ass up and back trying to entice Sam to hurry the fuck up already. “Daddy, can I please have your cock?” He swears his voice goes up whenever he begs like that, and it just makes him more thrillingly embarrassed.

Sam huffs into Dean’s ear in answer and slides his fingers out to rub his hot prick between Dean’s ass cheeks, circling at his hole with the head. He drapes over Dean again, all heat and sweat from the run, his heart thudding against Dean’s back, fingers grinding Dean’s wrists together.

“Want you to come in me,”  Dean blurts out, and Sam groans and  _shoves_. Even slicked up as Dean is, there’s still an incredible drag as Sam’s dick pushes in, a burning stretch from taking the whole thing so fast and it almost brings tears to Dean’s eyes, he swears. He tries to relax against it, lean into it, but Sam doesn’t move once he’s bottomed out.

Sam stays like that, ensconced, panting over Dean, bottomed out but still trying to push further, always. “Could just stay like this, boy, until the timer goes off. How’d that be?”

Dean lets out a pleading, soft little noise that makes Sam groan. He slithers one hand underneath them, so briefly palming at Dean’s hard dick and groping his way up Dean’s chest until he’s clasping at his neck.

“It’s okay, don’t have to say anything,” Sam tells him, his fingers squeezing, his hips rocking long circles that leave Dean breathless as much as the choking. “Gonna go slow though. Real fucking slow. Cause we got all day.”

“T-the timer,” Dean mutters, voice high and constricted. God, he’s so pinned down and Sam’s so fucking strong, Dean can’t even move his hips back against him like he wants. His arms twitch uselessly in Sam’s gasp and there’s a puddle of drool pooling on the counter underneath his mouth and the further Sam drives him up, the more his dick leaks too. He must be a mess.

“Yeah, fifteen minutes, well, twelve now, of this.” Sam rocks his hips up so hard, Dean has to arch onto his toes, his mouth falling open wordlessly. Everything clenches, his jaw, his ass, all his muscles knot up and it just makes Sam’s dick feel even bigger inside of him. “Twelve minutes of Daddy barely moving. Think you could get off like this? Just stuffed full of dick?”

Dean whines, tries to press back against the heavy weight and barely succeeds, only getting a modicum of friction for a few seconds. Sam’s grip loosens on his neck, enough that he can pant out actual words at least. “Probably could, but wouldn’t it be better to fuck it outta me?” he squeezes himself around Sam’s dick to try and prove his point, craning his neck around as much as he can when Sam chokes out a moan. “Huh, Daddy Don’t you wanna fuck me? Wanna pound my ass, don’t you? Wanna fill me up?”

It definitely doesn’t have the desired effect; Sam laughs roughly, right against his ear and then pulls back, his hand slipping from Dean’s throat, big body moving away and for a brief moment, Dean’s terrified he’s going to pull out, that he’s going to lose that perfect fullness. And Sam does slide his dick out slow but it’s only so he can pump it back in just as slow, one long thrust that he keeps held, again.

“Not yet,” Sam says. He’s got all the leverage in every single way, hauling Dean up by his held arms, keeping him on balance and dragging him upright. God, his dick feels even better like that somehow, pressing different inside of Dean and he’s clenching again, chest rising rapid, jerking his head back to rest on Sam’s big shoulder. “Just gonna let you soak in it for a while, cause I know you like it anyway, boy. Beg all you want.”

Dean’s about to, like half a second away from thoughtlessly babbling, when Sam’s fist slides down his chest, bypasses his aching dick and grabs his balls tight. Dean’s held breath hitches hard, his whole body twitching like one big nerve up against Sam’s huge hand. He rubs slow at Dean, horribly thorough, until Dean’s whining again, grinding back against Sam back and front, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Look how wet you’re getting,” Sam chuckles against his ear, breath huffing out hot, and Dean thinks it’s rhetorical for a while until Sam’s teeth sink into his ear and he repeats himself. “Boy, I said  _look_.”

Dean’s eyes flare open with a gasp and he obeys and of course he could feel his dick leaking almost ceaselessly but seeing it is something else; he’s practically dripping and beyond that mess is Sam’s hand roughly caressing his balls. Dean huffs out something like, “Jesuspleasefuckyes,” and Sam laughs again, awful and close and so goddamned hot.

Too fast and too slow, Sam’s hand finally wraps around Dean’s dick and he stutters out more nonsense while Sam squeezes tight and slides up, gathers up all that drippy mess and uses it to slick his way easier.

“Still looking?” He only half-asks because he knows he has to remind Dean, who flares his eyes open again, not even realizing they were shut, and that’s even worse now. He punches out a needy moan and Sam mutters, “There’s my good boy. What’re we at, ten minutes? What if you blow too fast, huh? Cause I know my dick feels good in there, and god, you’re a fucking mess. Kinda wanna make you spill already.”

“Yes, okay, that’s fine,” Dean says through clenched teeth, his voice high and desperate again. His arms are starting to cramp a little, being mashed up between them, still held tight in Sam’s fist but it’s a burn he always likes anyway, likes it when his entire body’s on fire for Sam.

Sam’s fist moves faster over Dean’s dick and it’s the most incredible sensation, being stuffed full and held in place and squirming just a bit while Sam strips his dick fast and slick. “So what’s Daddy get out of it, if you come really fast, huh? Gotta plead your case a little.”

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Dean answers in a groan, really wanting to look away, to close his eyes and just lose himself in the feeling but he knows it’s not allowed. “You could…could just fuck me, after I come. I’ll be all tight for you, you could just come in me, please?”

“Yeah, I heard you the first three times, boy.” Sam rocks his hips up just a fraction but it’s so much more movement than he’s had in minutes that Dean shudders and moans. “Think I’m just gonna get you off real quick, cause I can tell you’re basically ready. Usually are. And then we’re just gonna wait the timer out, boy. Just gonna stay like this. Might give you your arms back, but I’m not gonna fuck you proper until I make sure you’ve earned it with that breakfast, like a real good boy. How’s that sound?”

Fucking mean, Dean wants to spit, but fuck it, he’s sure of his cooking skills if nothing else and he really wants to get off, doesn’t care how rough and fast it is. He nods tense against Sam’s shoulder, forces out, “Yes, please, whatever you want, Daddy.”

Sam growls against him, lets his arms drop but shoves him back over the counter so he’s still trapped. Dean wriggles them, tries to get them free, but Sam presses harder against him, his newly freed hand grabbing at Dean’s balls so hard it makes him jump. “Don’t move, boy, I’m serious. Move and you won’t get to come all day.”

Dean shudders out a breath and nods as best he can with his face mashed against the cool marble again. He hopes Sam might take a bit of pity, might actually fuck him, but he just grinds a few times, his balls squishing against Dean before he goes motionless again. It’s all Sam’s big hands, tugging Dean’s dick and rolling at his balls, so precise and perfect. He’s so close already, not that it takes much, but all the talk, all the filthy promises and the thick unmoving dick fully buried inside of him, hot and twitching, and Sam pressing him down against the counter with nothing but his weight, it’s like a goddamned conspiracy against him. His whole body goes tight faster than even he expected, and he can feel it start breakneck fast.

“That’s it, come for Daddy. Want it all, boy,” Sam growls into his ear and it’s almost too too fast, the way his body tenses and Sam’s hand squeezes, fucking wrings the first load out of him like a vice. Dean feels it splatter messy against his stomach and the second hits higher, up his abs and his chest and everything is hot and drippy and Sam moves inside of him with a sharp grunt like he can’t help it, probably can’t with the way Dean’s clenching around his thick length, totally beyond his control.

Sam doesn’t stop, his hands sliding through the slick mess until Dean’s twitching oversensitive, trying to jerk himself away on pure instinct but there’s nowhere to even go, nowhere at all. And he doesn’t want to anyway, loves how Sam’s big hand never slows down, makes him shudder and almost cry and for a second he thinks he might be coming again or else maybe he won’t ever stop or something, it’s just a red haze.

And then the hand on his balls veers away, grabs one hip and Sam surprises him completely when he starts thrusting, when he starts actually fucking him.

“Ah – god,” Dean gasps and squirms and probably begs. He’s not sure, he can barely hear himself through all the rushing blood. Sam thumps into him so hard, noisy and needy and neither of them are talking now, so past that. Dean’s almost sure Sam didn’t intend for this to happen but he’s not going to call him on it, not when he’s been begging so bad for it since Sam got back.

Sam gets erratic fast, all snapping hips and deep, breathless growling and Dean has to wrestle his arms out from between them to brace himself against the counter if he doesn’t want a broken nose or worse. Sam doesn’t chide him for it, probably doesn’t even notice. He’s so fast, so deep that Dean’s up on his toes and spilling out noises every time Sam jabs into him sharp.

Dean manages to gasp out, “Fuck me, Daddy, fill me up,” the second before Sam actually does, still jerking Dean’s dick while he holds a thrust and shudders and spills hot inside of him. Dean  feels it and he moans, arches up against it until Sam presses him back down and barely breaks his rhythm, fucking him through the rest of his load.

Sam doesn’t pull out when he’s done, just slows a bit, his thrusts tapering off gently until he’s just resting inside of Dean again, not soft yet. Neither of them are.

“Nice surprise,” Dean mutters against the counter while Sam twitches on top of him, still coming down, eventually sighing deep and heavy and relaxing his heavy weight on Dean’s back.

“Not what you’re supposed to say,” Sam mumbled, nosing at the back of Dean’s neck. He’s still stroking his dick slow and tight and Dean’s still trying to squirm away to no avail. “Say it properly.”

Dean shudders out a sigh, goosebumps prickling up his spine even though he’s overheated. “Thank you for your come, Daddy,” he says, more clearly, relaxing against the counter with a growing smile. “Thank you for fucking me.”

“And?”

“Thank you for letting me come?”

“Good.”

Sam finally slides his hand off Dean’s dick and wraps both his arms around his chest, burying his face in Dean’s neck, long sweaty hair tickling Dean, making him shiver again. He loses track of how long they stay there like that, comfortable and smooshed together, until the timer dings and he jumps and Sam’s dick jabs inside of him again like he forgot it was there. He groans and fumbles to shut the annoying boinging noise off, sighing.

“Gotta move.”

“Ask nice, boy.”

Dean makes a needy-happy groan, smiling against the counter still. “Can I please go get the french toast for you, Daddy? Then I promise I’ll get right back on your big dick.”

“Fuck,” Sam mutters, and Dean feels him shiver a bit before he gets up, carefully sliding out of his brother, even helping him up with his big arms around his chest.

Dean feels empty immediately, his ass clenching around nothing which is a wholly unacceptable feeling. He pads right over to the stove, stuffing his hands in the oven mits and grinning over his shoulder, unable to resist waggling his ass at Sam a little. “Miss it already, Daddy.”

The teasing totally, always gets him trouble later, but it’s worth it for his brother’s hungry gaze and wild eyes. So, so worth it.


End file.
